


Apparent

by yeaka



Series: Random Roleswaps [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 09:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16699780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis advises his prince to deal with his advisor already.





	Apparent

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This series is just unrelated roleswaps. Lemme know if you want one. This is a fill for anon’s “promptis w prom as adviser and iggy as noct's best friend” suggestion.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Ignis is probably the second best thing that ever happened to him, maybe third, somewhere tied with Gladiolus, though Prompto is obviously first. Prompto’s been by his side since they were little kids, when his father first pushed him forward towards a freckled blond with a shy smile and a hand already thrust out. Noctis still remembers taking it, smiling tentatively back, and shaking it vigorously. Prompto had giggled, then swiftly tried to hide it in an attempt to appear stoic again, but the formal mood was already shattered: Noctis wanted to laugh too.

Ignis came much later, right at the start of high school, offering a smooth and easy friendship that none of Noctis’ other peers had ever come close to. Ignis sad beside him in most classes, fit well with him at lunch, and now looks right at home in Noctis’ new apartment. Better yet, he’ll come over at the drop of a hat when Noctis needs it, like tonight, since Prompto’s looking even more delectable than usual and actually cooking Noctis dinner. Not just cup noodles, either. Real, delicious-smelling pasta with homemade sauce. The sort of thing Noctis thought only Ignis could make. And if Ignis weren’t over to ground Noctis and keep him normal, he’d probably be too-eagerly draped over the kitchen counter, leering at the handsome advisor that’s supposed to be just an employee.

“Noct,” Ignis reminds him, subtly nudging his knee and drawing his attention back. Ignis doesn’t have to say: _you’re staring again_ , because Noctis knows. He jerks back around and tries not to look as disgruntled as he feels. 

He mutters, “Right,” and looks over the homework Ignis is trying to help him with. Noctis might be the one that grew up with an army of expensive tutors and an advisor always willing to help, but Ignis is the one that seems to understand just about everything in the universe. He’s probably the smartest person Noctis knows. He pushes his glasses up his nose and sighs like Noctis is insufferable, which Noctis actually appreciates: few other commoners dare to tease him the way that Ignis does. Prompto and Gladiolus tease him all the time. But that’s different. They’re old Citadel pals. And sometimes Noctis goads Prompto into it—he teases his advisor right back, like they’re high school sweethearts instead of prince and retainer.

Before Ignis can resume his explanation—or maybe restart it, because it’s probably obvious Noctis hasn’t taken in anything—a big ball of sunshine interrupts them. Prompto flitters into the living room, setting two steaming bowls of spaghetti down onto the coffee table. Ignis automatically frowns—at his place, one eats only at the dinner table. Prompto’s as casual as Noctis wants to be. He straightens back up again, gloved hands on his trim hips, and announces, “Dinner’s ready! Iggy, can you make sure Noct eats the whole thing for me?”

Ignis nods his ascent, and Noctis picks up his bowl, the ceramic instantly warming his fingers. It looks great. “Why wouldn’t I eat the whole thing?”

“What do you think I put in the sauce?” Prompto asks, winking, which has Noctis stupidly turning pink, even though he knows Prompto just means vegetables. Noctis hates vegetables. He’d eat them if Prompto hand-fed them to him, but otherwise, he’s out.

Ignis closes his notebook and tucks their homework into the backpack next to the couch, then picks up his bowl. Prompto watches Noctis swirl the noodles around his fork. As Noctis is taking the first bite, Ignis asks, “Why won’t _you_ be making sure he eats it?”

“Gotta run,” Prompto answers, pausing and grinning broadly at Noctis’ happy noise of approval—it tastes every bit as good as he thought it would. “I have to check in with Cor about next week’s schedule adjustments and the Crownsguard training program. I just wanted to stop in and make sure his highness got some actual nutrition in him.”

At least the food makes it easy for Noctis to hide his frown. He’d naturally assumed Prompto would be staying with him, but of course, he knows Prompto has an incredibly busy schedule. And Prompto has a life outside of him. Even if what he’s leaving for is still technically Noctis-related. Ignis tells him agreeable, “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks, Specs.” To Noctis, Prompto adds, “Y’know, he’s a good influence on you. Maybe you’ll even start getting up for school on time without me having to come in and shake you.” 

Noctis’ cheeks heat again, as much from the ribbing as the many memories of waking up to Prompto’s lilting voice and gentle hands on his shoulders, stirring him back to the waking world. He doesn’t miss the way Ignis quirks an eyebrow—that’s a detail Noctis hadn’t shared. Noctis tries to swallow it all down and tells his advisor, “Thanks for dinner, Prom. It’s delicious. ...Even with the totally unnecessary cucumber that doesn’t need to be in there.”

Ignis lets out a withered sigh, and Prompto groans, “Our future king can’t tell the difference between zucchini and cucumber. We’re doomed.” Noctis wrinkles his nose, but Prompto leans over to pat his shoulder and laugh, ending the conversation. Then he’s waving and heading for the hallway, and Noctis buries his embarrassment in pasta. Prompto whistles through getting his shoes and coat and leaves the apartment. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, the whole place feels emptier.

There’s a quiet moment where the two remaining occupants just eat, and then Ignis says, “He’s totally in love with you.”

Noctis splutters around his mouthful, “Is not!” Then he winces, because that sounds so childish.

Ignis shakes his head like Noctis is being deliberately ignorant. “The only person who’s got it worse than him is you. Do you really think he’d pop by just to cook for you if he didn’t care about you?”

“Of course he cares about me, we’ve known each other forever. But it’s not like _that_...”

“But you want it to be,” Ignis reminds him, and Noctis abruptly regrets confessing everything to his best friend. It was great to finally have an outlet that couldn’t run back to his father and report all his inner thoughts, but now it’s coming back to haunt him. He doesn’t need Ignis getting his hopes up. Ignis insists, “You should tell him how you feel. Even if he turns you down, I think your bond is strong enough that it’ll recover. But I honestly don’t think he’ll turn you down.”

“Did you hear him? He thinks I’m a lazy brat, and in case you forgot, he’s _paid_ to do things like come make me dinner...”

“I thought he was paid to handle your official dealings with the Crown, not hang out at your apartment and pamper you.” Ignis pauses for another forkful, during which Noctis doesn’t argue, because Ignis is technically right. “And I doubt he thinks you’re a lazy brat overall, even if you can be at times.”

Noctis snorts. “Thanks, Specs.”

Ignis gives a serious, thoughtful look, the sort that always makes Noctis feel uncannily like Ignis knows all the secrets to life itself. “I mean it, Noct. I don’t mind coming over when you need a barrier, but... sometimes I really do feel like I’m the third wheel.” Noctis opens his mouth, but Ignis rolls on, “I’m not saying I’m uncomfortable or anything; I like both of you. I just mean that the romantic tension is getting a bit ridiculous.”

Noctis wrinkles his nose. Ignis finishes: “Just tell him already.”

Noctis looks down at his dinner. It’s meant to be a delaying technique, but all it really does is remind him of how cute Prompto looks in his kitchenette and life. 

The front door clicks again. Noctis looks over towards the entrance hall, and a minute later, Prompto shuffles in, muttering, “Sorry, sorry—forgot my bag. And would you believe it? He texts me _now_ to reschedule to tomorrow, like, fifteen minutes before I’m supposed to be there. Way to screw up my night.”

Noctis starts to say his condolences, but Ignis says right over him, “Why don’t you stay here and supervise Noctis’ vegetable intake, then?”

Prompto laughs and waves his hand, hiking the retrieved bag over his shoulder in the kitchenette. “S’okay, man, I trust you.”

“No,” Ignis replies, voice full of finality as he sets his mostly-empty bowl back onto the coffee table. He climbs to his feet and shoulders his own backpack, ignoring Noctis’ frantic look. “I actually remembered I was supposed to visit my uncle tonight. I’m afraid I have to run... but I’m sure you two have council reports or something to look over.” And then he gives Noctis a _look_ that makes it very clear he doesn’t mean council reports at all. Noctis tries hard not to glare at him.

As Ignis passes him, heading right out, Prompto mumbles, “Oh, uh... Noct?” He glances over. Noctis is frozen.

“Uh... sure. Stay.” Prompto tilts his head, and Noctis says more firmly, “Please.”

Prompto looks confused, but he smiles, and softly answers, “Okay.” Noctis hears the front door again, signaling Ignis’ exit. It’s just him and Prompto, like it so often is, Noctis’ body warm with the fruits of Prompto’s labour. 

Prompto serves himself some of the pasta still in the pot on the stove—obviously, he made enough for seconds. Maybe he meant for Noctis to have leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch. He’s thoughtful like that. He comes to sit on the couch next to Noctis, tight at Noctis’ side. 

Noctis eats his pasta and tells himself that when he’s done, he’ll spill out his heart.


End file.
